


Sing for Us Tomorrow

by vickjawn (awshitzombies)



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Bunkers and Badasses AU, Fantasy Violence, Implied/Referenced Torture, Improper use of magic, M/M, Mutual Pining, Tim Has Anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 19:58:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13958895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awshitzombies/pseuds/vickjawn
Summary: Timothy knew that when his brother finally went to confront the band of warriors sent from Flamerock Refuge, he would not be coming back. But he supposed he had a hand in that.-Or: the Bunkers and Badasses AU in which Timothy is the Handsome Sorcerer’s twin brother.





	Sing for Us Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> It started with an idea for a bard who uses lame-ass lines like the ones in Timothy’s Inspire skill to pump up their party and ended with...this. This is honestly more of a Dungeons and Dragons AU (there’s no guns, just magic and swords and shit), but I’ve kept the very basic plot of the DLC in order. Un-beta'd.

Timothy knew that when his brother finally went to confront the band of warriors sent from Flamerock Refuge, he would not be coming back. But he supposed he had a hand in that.

When the warriors started the long, arduous climb to the top of the Handsome Tower, Jack visited him, seeking a boost of support before he took his position at Dragon Keep. Timothy did his best not to wince when Jack broke the door to his chambers clean off its hinges and drifted into the room, the toes of his boots barely scraping the ground beneath him. In the blink of an eye, the door had reformed whole and unbroken behind him, once again sealing Timothy in his prison.

Timothy wasn’t sure why Jack had to do that _every time_ he visited. It wasn’t like Timothy was going to forget just how powerful he was.

“They’ve come,” Jack snarled, equal parts furious and excited to finally unleash his own kind of hell on those who dared oppose him. The power radiating off of him was as intoxicating as it was nauseating, and Timothy had no choice but to bear the brunt of it as Jack drew him closer with a mere wave of his hand.

“Tell me I’ll win,” Jack ordered, wrapping his hands around Timothy’s throat. His eyes were already wild with bloodlust, and Timothy could feel raw energy threatening to seep into his skin as it jumped off Jack’s hands. “Tell me I will be victorious and send these pests back to Flamerock in pieces.”

Timothy swallowed around his brother’s iron grasp and choked out, “Heroes never die.”

Jack, of course, gobbled that shit up without asking just who the true heroes of this story were.

Needless to say, it wasn’t him. Timothy felt his brother’s power wane in strength the longer he fought the warriors from Flamerock—until suddenly it was gone, snuffed out like a candle. Timothy slumped down with a mixture of relief and an emotion he refused to label as grief. No one would mourn Jack, least of all the brother he had kept locked away in a tower for most of his life.

What Timothy had not bet on was the party storming the rest of the tower’s inner rooms after destroying the sorcerer. In hindsight, it was actually a blessing that someone had bothered to look, as he probably would have been locked away forever if a broad-shouldered individual hadn’t barged his way into Timothy’s chambers without so much as a hello.

That thought would strike him later. Right now, Timothy could only cower at the sight of the man covered head to toe in what looked like a combination of heavy and medium armor, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to be a knight or a ranger. By far the most intimidating part of him was the shortsword clutched tightly in his grasp, which was still bloodied from combat and currently pointed right at Timothy.

As if he alone wasn’t terrifying enough, more members of his party appeared in the doorway, all armed and still wild-eyed from the fighting. They zeroed in on Timothy in near unison.

“Fuh,” he sputtered, recoiling, “fuck off!”

The knight-slash-ranger gave a strangled noise and bent over, spitting blood out from between the gap in his helmet. His friends gave startled exclamations of their own as they rushed to his side, trying to find a source of his pain.

“Oh, shit I-I’m sorry!” Timothy squealed, reaching out before he could remember himself. At least this time his words helped rather than hurt, healing whatever awful ailment he’d bestowed upon the warrior just as quickly as it had formed.

As the warrior straightened up and fixed his haunting green eyes on him through the visor of his helmet, Timothy clapped his hands over his mouth and retreated further, trying to cram as much of himself into the corner as possible. The shackles around his ankles rattled with the sudden movement; the second the others took notice, the air in the room changed dramatically.

The blue-haired elf moved first, kneeling down in front of Timothy. He shrank back, cautiously sizing her up. She only had a knife tucked into her belt, so he pinned her for a magic-user. She returned his curious gaze, but only for a moment before she spoke.

“Your words carry power,” she said.

He nodded, hands still clasped over his mouth.

“Can you not control it?”

He hesitated, then shrugged. He had good days and bad, but he wasn’t sure he could convey that without blowing out someone’s eardrums by accident. His powers had always fluctuated with his emotions, and right now he was extremely on edge, to say the least.

Thankfully they seemed to understand that. The elf rose to her feet and nodded at the others, who had already gotten bored with this weird sorcerer lookalike and eagerly went off in search of actual loot. Timothy nearly told them which way to go as a token of thanks, but held his tongue, not wanting to hurt anyone else.

“You’re the sorcerer’s brother,” the man Timothy had accidentally inflicted great bodily harm on said. Timothy looked up to find him still regarding him carefully, but at least he’d put his sword back in its sheath.

Timothy nodded, finally lowering his hands now that his heart wasn’t threatening to beat its way out of his throat. He was still on guard, but with the other warriors out of the room, he was well on his way to relaxing a little more.

“Twin?” the warrior continued to prod. He tilted his head, and Timothy got the distinct impression that the man was taking his pathetic, hunched form into consideration. Timothy didn’t see himself as hideous by any means—pale from not seeing the sun for many years, yes, but he still had his youth, though he supposed he had his elven blood to thank for that.

The warrior apparently reached a conclusion as he bent low to start removing the shackles around his ankles. Jack had enchanted them to be impossible for Timothy to unlock, but this man wasn't Timothy. “I can see why that sorcerer prick locked you away,” he mused. His voice was rough, but not at all unappealing. “Everyone and their mother is gonna wanna sink their teeth into you when we get you back to Flamerock.”

Timothy burst out laughing. It was a brief, semi-hysterical laugh, one born of gleeful disbelief, but it did the job well enough.

“Whoa,” the warrior uttered as he straightened up. He touched his other hand to his lower right side; Timothy noticed the blood staining his chainmail and realized that his laughter had likely healed the wound there. “That’s a nice voice you got, bro. You should use it more often.”

That would be nice, Timothy agreed, frowning down at his feet. Too bad Jack had never given him the chance to educate himself at a college or, hell, even let him read a book or two on the arcane. He might as well have been a monster like the one Jack had turned his poor daughter into so very long ago.

As Timothy brooded, the warrior lifted his helmet off his head, shaking the sweat off his short sandy hair and out of his startlingly clear eyes. Timothy sputtered at the sight of the unbelievably handsome human standing in front of him and couldn’t help the shy squeak of “holy shit” from escaping him.

The door to his chambers exploded in a shower of wooden shards. Well, Timothy found himself thinking as he observed the damage, no wonder he’d never been able to magic his way out of here his whole life. He hadn’t been turned on in years.

“Okay,” the warrior drawled, staring at the busted door with wide eyes, “maybe not _that_ often.”

 

* * *

 

The twin brother of the Handsome Sorcerer’s name was Timothy, they learned.

The only item he had taken with him upon being liberated from his dreary, barren bedroom-slash-prison-cell was a handbound book comprised of plain parchment, which he used to write down his introduction. Its pages were stuffed with nearly illegible scrawls and scribbles that Axton hadn’t had the chance to ask about yet, though in hindsight he probably should have. They still didn’t know much about this elf with the pale, handsome face and sad eyes, but Axton already knew that he wanted to poke and prod. All in due time.

“Is this a good idea?” Gaige asked, casting quick looks at the guy in question from beneath the rim of her hat. He was standing a few feet away taking in the clear skies, the grass, the foliage—everything he had been locked away from for who knows how long. “The people of Flamerock might lose it if we bring the sorcerer’s twin brother back.”

“He was the sorcerer’s prisoner,” Axton pointed out. “He had him in shackles and the door to his chambers was chained shut in three places before I hacked my way inside.”

“That may be true,” Maya said, “but he’s clearly very powerful and that might put people on edge. Sir Roland might deny him entrance.”

“What should we do, then? Send him off into the wilds and hope for the best?”

“It’s not like he’s defenseless with a voice like that,” Gaige said. Her lips pursed in that pouty way that Axton knew meant she was jealous. “The power to just— _yell_ or _laugh_ and make things happen. You think he was born with it, or did he sell his soul to some patron like his dumbass brother clearly did?”

“He didn’t.”

The trio whirled around in alarm at the sound of Timothy’s voice. The guy had finished exploring the area and was now patiently eavesdropping on them. Instead of risking a chaotic conversation, Timothy quickly flipped to a plain page in his sketchbook and started writing.

_Studied_ , he wrote. His hand slowed as he added, _Stole_.

“Stole?” Maya echoed, arching a graceful brow in surprise. “Are you saying he stole his power from others? From...you?”

Timothy opened and closed his mouth for several seconds as he gripped his charcoal and attempted to better explain himself. Soon enough Axton reached out to lay his hand over Timothy’s. When the elf picked his head up, his eyes were wide and shinier than usual.

“You can explain everythin’ later once we get you back to Flamerock,” Axton assured him.

Timothy’s brows shot up with surprise. “I’m—” He snapped his mouth shut as everyone went tense.

Axton knew what he was asking. “If you want,” he said, letting his hand go. “It’s a big world out there.”

Timothy shuffled his feet, anxious, and cast a look over his shoulder at the tower that had had been his home for the past who knows how many years. Axton saw his breath start catching with the onset of what was probably a panic attack and did his best to steer the guy away from his chaotic thoughts.

“Flamerock’s a hell of a lot better than that prison,” Axton told him quietly. “No dirtbag sorcerers to terrorize the locals anymore. The only handsome bastard around is lil’ ol’ me.”

That wrenched another soft chuckle out of Timothy that had Salvador straightening up and patting at his arm, marveling at how the shredded flesh was suddenly mended back together. Zero also inspected parts of their body that the sorcerer had taken his wrath out on and found it to be healed, perhaps in even better shape than it had been.

“Okay,” Salvador declared, “he’s good to tag along in my book.”

“Indeed. Keep this up,” Zero said, gesturing to their newly healed thigh, “and we might replace Maya with you and your voice.”

That earned both Zero and Timothy a sweltering glare from the mage. “Or,” she hissed, “I could just abandon you all now.”

“No,” Timothy squeaked in protest.

He tensed up immediately, realizing too late his mistake, and watched as Maya was suddenly thrown forward onto the ground hard enough to send a small plume of dirt wafting into the air around her floundering form.

Gaige was first to burst out into loud cackles, followed by Axton and Salvador. Maya sat up quickly and dusted herself off, not bothering to disguise her disdain for everyone, Timothy especially. She jabbed a finger in the poor guy’s face.

“When we get to Flamerock,” she seethed, “you are going to sit down and let me poke and prod at you until I can figure you out. Understand?”

Timothy nodded rapidly, looking equal parts terrified but also interested in the idea of getting to know his powers better. Axton couldn’t blame him. It was frustrating having to wait for Timothy to write everything out; he couldn’t imagine how irritated Timothy must feel over not being able to just speak his mind.

“Are we going?” Gaige asked, literally bouncing in her boots. “The sooner we get back, the sooner we get paid, ‘member?”

That had the party getting themselves in gear and rapidly moving out. Timothy hurried after them, staying close but otherwise keeping his gaze low unless he was casting more nervous looks over his shoulder at the Handsome Tower.

Axton gave him a friendly nudge. “It ain’t gonna rear up and eat ya,” he teased, earning another deep blush from the guy. “I won’t let it.”

Timothy’s mouth moved for a second before he dared utter two quiet words: “Thank you.”

A burst of warmth spread throughout Axton’s body; if he hadn’t been already so overheated from the fight and the six tons of armor he was wearing, it might have been a little bit more than pleasant. He hummed, deciding to deal with it.

He met Gaige’s glower. “Can you at least _try_ to keep it in your pants?” she exclaimed, earning a guffaw from Maya and a snorting laugh from Salvador.

“Hey, let me live a lil’. I finally have someone attractive to stare at now instead of all you losers,” Axton declared, sending Timothy a wink and a crooked grin that had that sad frown on his face quickly flipping upside down.

 

* * *

 

Of course, the long journey back to this Flamerock Refuge place was not met without the occasional skirmish with the dark creatures that still clung to this world even after their summoner’s demise. His dark magic had plagued the land for a long time, after all; the very earth was saturated with it even now.

Timothy, utterly defenseless as long as his mouth was shut, could only watch the others take care of business. Axton and Zero used their blades to slay the creatures that stood in their way, and the bigger human named Krieg resorted to simply swinging his fists and screaming nonsensical things at his victims, which was just as effective. Salvador somehow managed to dual-wield crossbows of his own design, taking out several of the smaller skeletons just as quickly as they crawled out of the earth. Maya wasn’t just the party’s designated healer, Timothy learned; she cast sacred flame on the foes that managed to dodge out of the way of the others, incinerating them in bursts of holy fire. At one point, Gaige summoned some sort of undead beast to tear through the remaining enemies, which was equal parts horrifying and a delight to behold.

Needless to say, the skirmishes were handled well enough, but there was no hiding the fact that the party had been worn down from their fight with Jack. They hadn’t taken the time to rest a bit before moving out—a choice that Timothy knew they were all coming to regret after taking down yet another skeleton horde. And, according to irritated grumbling coming from Gaige, they weren’t even halfway back to town yet.

“Can our new friend not summon us some munitions?” Zero intoned after yet another skeleton giant attempted to smear them and Krieg off the continent. Timothy couldn’t tell if the rogue assassin was being serious or not. “Some potions at least?”

All eyes turned to Timothy, who shrank back behind his sketchbook and lowered his gaze. He didn’t need to grab some charcoal to give them their answer.

“We just need to rest a while,” Maya said through a sigh. “I’m out of spell slots.”

“Me too,” Gaige mumbled, kicking at a femur bone one of the skeletons had left behind when it departed this plane. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to spend the night out here.”

“Famous last words,” Salvador said, but he didn’t complain further.

They set up a little camp right there among the bones of their slain enemies, as the area was wide open enough for those even with mere human eyes to see if trouble tried to creep up on them. Adrenaline was still running high, so it took them a while to actually settle, choosing to instead gnaw on the last of their provisions, sass each other, and draw straws for watch order.

Timothy hadn’t been included in the draw—he was still under observation, after all—but he knew he would be up for a while anyway. He sat curled up close to the fire, sketchbook up against his drawn knees while he dragged his little chunk of charcoal across it in a feeble attempt to work on his story. He had thought being free of that cursed tower would get his creative juices flowing, but his anxiety had plugged up his reservoir, it seemed.

Axton eventually made his way over to him halfway through his watch. “What’s all that you got there?” he asked as he flopped down next to him in the grass. “A diary?”

Timothy tensed, then slowly uncurled so that Axton could see the smudgy mess that was his sketchbook page. He knew most of it was illegible, but he hoped Axton could at least figure out that it was the outline of a story. The page next to it was also filled to the brim with words of another tale not yet composed into something that made sense.

“You can’t talk without hurtin’ someone,” Axton guessed, “so you started writing everythin’ down, is that it?”

Timothy nodded, then flipped to a new page and explained: _I want to tell stories. I can’t do it verbally, so I started writing them down here._

Axton hummed, rubbing the stubble on his chin. “Except you’re the only one who can read that chicken scratch.”

Timothy didn’t deny it, slumping in defeat. He couldn’t talk, he couldn’t write. He should have just stayed in that damn tower.

“Well, hey, Maya already said she wants to figure you out,” Axton said quickly, trying to cheer him up. “Maybe that’ll be step one towards findin’ a way to control your magics. Then you can tell us all about…” He squinted at the mess on Timothy’s lap. “...Athena the...gladiator bear?”

Timothy snorted out a laugh, and across the way the fire that had been threatening to dissolve into embers reignited into a large, welcoming flame, lack of fuel be damned. Axton let out a low whistle of appreciation and stretched out as the night’s chill was chased from them.

“Damn. You know, I’m pretty sure you could’ve just laughed and saved this plane from your dumb brother without our help.”

Timothy’s mirth faded. _Haven’t laughed in years_ , he wrote slowly.

“Well it’s a good thing I’m here, then,” Axton said, swaying on his elbows to nudge him. “I’m goddamn hilarious.”

That had Timothy smiling again. _You’re something all right._

 

* * *

 

Timothy blinked awake sometime later that night. Elves didn’t sleep, really, but years of having nothing else to do while locked away gave Timothy the chance to practice the act. It had been comforting—being able to escape reality for even just a few hours.

As more cognizance came to him, he realized he was curled up next to Axton. The fire had dwindled to a small flame, and in an effort to escape the cold, the two had unconsciously scooted closer to each other in their slumber. The man was lying on his back and snuggled down into his bedroll, snoring softly.

Timothy remained still a while, observing him. Gods, he was handsome. And he apparently _liked_ Timothy. It was as strange as it was welcome, even if it was probably born more out of pity than any real attraction.

As he pondered, the ground trembled once, then again, firmer, closer. Timothy’s heart plummeted into his stomach when he realized he hadn’t imagined it. He slowly lifted his gaze skyward, and sure enough, one of those giant skeleton beasts loomed above their little camp, its massive club already raised to smear them across the grass.

“Stop!” Timothy shrieked, throwing his hands up.

Time did for half a moment. Around him, his new friends all jolted awake, but the giant skeleton remained frozen in place, poised to smash.

“What the hell,” Maya snapped, already drawing her knife from its sheath. “Who’s on watch?”

Just as she started yelling, Salvador came sauntering out of the bushes a few feet away, only to freeze at the sight of the skeleton and his irritated friends. “What? I had to drain the little berserker!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in surrender.

“Arguing isn’t gonna help slay this stupid thing,” Axton said, readying his sword.

By the grace of some divine being, Timothy’s hold on the beast lasted just long enough for everyone to scramble behind it, their weapons at the ready. He lost his grip on it shortly after, letting the beast pick up where it had left off, smashing the remnants of their camp into a paste beneath its club.

The skeleton tilted its head, confused, only to let out a surprised roar when Salvador lodged a dozen crossbow bolts in the back of its leg and Zero lodged their blade between its shoulders.

It was on then, with the heroes from Flamerock swarming the giant like some angry ants while the beast bellowed and snarled and took swipes at them with its club. It was slow in movement, giving everyone the chance to dodge out of the way.

But they were still limited, Timothy realized. The gang had only gotten maybe two hours rest total—enough to rejuvenate them a bit, but not enough to allow them to fully recharge their abilities. They were down to their weapons and mere cantrips.

He had to help, he thought. He had done so before—surely he could do it again! Somehow!

“H-hey! Ugly!” Timothy sputtered, puffing up with a new wave of courage. All eyes were suddenly on him, but it was the skeleton Timothy focused on. “It must be _nice_ to be so unburdened by skill!”

The skeleton looked ready to screech at him, but gave a shudder and dropped its club with a resounding thump instead. It stared down at itself, namely at its arms, which were suddenly unresponsive.

Krieg moved first with a roar, grabbing the skeleton’s one arm and bending it so violently that it snapped and splintered into dozens of razor sharp shards. The skeleton screeched, probably more so out of fury than any pain, and tried to fight back, but Timothy’s words were still making it hard for it to function. Axton and Zero moved again, plunging their blades in between the joints on the skeleton’s legs, causing it to lose its balance and tumble backwards into the firepit.

Gaige attacked then, sending a burst of flame into the skeleton’s torso that not only burnt it in the front, but reignited the firepit beneath it, burning the skeleton on all sides. It yowled in outrage and tried to sit up, but Maya uttered out a quiet “hold person,” freezing the skeleton halfway out of the fire.

It was Salvador who got the last blow on the beast, taking aim at its head and unleashing the last of his crossbow bolts into its face and neck. With a weak rumble, the skeleton broke into pieces, defeated. Any chances of it reforming were consumed by the fire that was now hungrily eating through its old, dusty remnants. The party breathed a collective sigh of relief.

Axton whirled around and fixed Timothy with a huge grin. “That was _awesome_ , darlin’,” he exclaimed breathlessly.

Timothy offered him a tired, toothy smile, but it was short-lived. Something wasn’t right, he realized, unable to catch his breath. His head was spinning and something was tugging terribly on his chest. It felt like—like—

“You’re bleeding,” Gaige blurted, pointing at her own nose. “Did that boney prick actually manage to hit you?”

Confused, Timothy reached up to smudge the blood off his face with a trembling hand. He hadn’t gotten hit, he wanted to say, but his tongue had turned to mush in his mouth. As he gaped at the smear of red on his hand, he felt his knees buckle, and then—nothing.

 

* * *

 

_When Timothy was a boy, his brother took him to a room in their grandmother’s tower that he had never been to before. Jack had told him that the room was a secret, wonderful place, and Timothy had been excited until they walked through the door into a room void of everything but a table off to the side and a chair in the middle._

_Timothy frowned. The air in the room was strangely heavy, but that was probably just because there wasn’t even a window. Or maybe it was because of the strange red sigils on the walls. The sight of them unnerved Timothy but he couldn’t figure out why._

_“Have a seat, kiddo,” Jack said, shoving him over to the chair. “Remember how a few days ago you offered to help me get better with magic? You were serious about that, right?”_

_Timothy gingerly lowered himself into the chair and nodded, still distracted by the strange markings on the wall. They were clearly magical in nature, but that was all he could figure out._

_Jack picked up something off the table and considered it, pursing his lips. In the dim candlelight, Timothy could make it out to be a small piece of metal. Jack clasped it tightly in his hand, then turned to face Timothy, his eyes flashing._

_“Hold person,” he said._

_Timothy felt every inch of himself go firm, suddenly unable to so much as blink never mind ask Jack what he was doing. His breaths started coming in rapid, frantic puffs through his nose as Jack strapped him tightly to the chair using strips of rope._

_The second the spell dissipated, Timothy let out a panicked cry and immediately started tugging on the bindings around his wrists. “What are you_ doing _?” he squealed, momentarily forgetting how his words could do harm. Nothing happened though—which honestly only frightened him further. “Jack, this isn’t funny! Grandma told you not to use your spells like that on me—”_

_Jack kicked Timothy in the shin, turning his words into wails. “You said you wanted to help me, baby brother.”_

_“W-well, yes, but I-I thought I was gonna help you study or—”_

_“I’m sick of reading,” Jack spat as he fumbled with a bowl on the table. His entire attitude did a flip, as it so often did these days, leaving him a sneering, snarling mess. “I’m_ sick _of listening to that old hag gush over how much better you are because you’ve got magic in your blood. I study_ every day _for_ hours _trying to unlock the secrets of magic—and all you have to do is open your goddamn mouth and the shit comes pouring out of you!”_

_Timothy sucked in a wet whimper as Jack started viciously smearing whatever was in the bowl onto Timothy’s forehead. It smelled awful and burned when it touched his skin, which only made him cry harder. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he babbled through his sobs. “Wh-what can I do? I wanna help you get stronger…!”_

_At that, Jack offered him a toothy, sinister smirk and picked up the last item on the table: an old, dusty book. “Sit tight,” he said, flipping the book open to a page he had marked. “And try not to scream too loud. You’ll wake Grandma.”_

 

* * *

 

When Timothy came to, he sent everyone flying.

Axton grunted as the air was knocked out of him when he hit the forest floor. The others let out similar cries around him as they came to a rough, unexpected landing, but that was thankfully the worst of it.

Timothy was sitting up in the same place he’d passed out in. His eyes were wide open and viciously leaking tears, but he didn’t seem to see anything. He’d clamped his hands down over his mouth so tightly that his frantic breaths could be heard puffing through his nose, even from as far as Axton had landed.

Despite the threat of being thrown back again or worse, Axton tentatively made his way back to the guy, scooting forward on his hands and knees. “Tim? Timothy, you okay?” he babbled, gently trying to pry his hands away from his mouth before he suffocated himself. “Hey, hey, you’re okay. You’re safe, I promise, bro.”

His words finally reached the elf, who let out a quiet sob and collapsed against him, shuddering like his soul was trying to escape his body. Axton held him tightly, trying to keep him together, and sent the others a wild-eyed look of confusion and worry.

“What the actual fuck was that,” Salvador muttered as he cautiously picked himself up off the ground. “I thought you said he fainted ‘cos he was out of power.”

“Well, look,” Gaige said, gesturing to the quiet nothingness around them. “He didn’t blow anything up or set the trees on fire or anything. All he did was fling us away. Bet he’s out of juice for real now, isn’t he?”

Axton looked down at Timothy. All he could see was the elf’s tangled brown locks and one long ear, which was drooped in a way he knew meant the guy was halfway to conked out. “I’d say so,” Axton murmured.

“He was mumbling about his brother right before he woke up,” Maya said, earning some surprised looks. “Begging him not to take his magic again.”

“Again?” Axton echoed, holding Timothy tighter. Anything Timothy had been muttering before his explosive awakening had been in Elvish, so most of the party had been clueless.

“Timothy told us,” Zero reminded them. “His brother stole his powers. From him, I assume.”

“Wait, you can actually do that?” Gaige blurted, looking understandably alarmed. “I thought he was just being dramatic! That’s gotta be some form of illegal, right?”

“If it’s the same ritual I’m familiar with, then yes, it’s extremely illegal, unethical, and very, very painful.” Maya’s lips pursed as she pondered. “Perhaps restraining his powers won’t be as hard as we think it might be. Let’s just get back to Flamerock and I’ll see what I can do.”

 

* * *

 

A plain wooden ceiling greeted Timothy when he finally opened his eyes again.

Any fear about his new friends and the journey away from the sleek Handsome Tower being nothing more than a cruel dream was squashed before it formed, but Timothy didn't feel any better. Shame burned the back of his throat as he remembered the dream that sent him into a panic upon waking. He was damned lucky he hadn’t had enough power to do serious harm to the others. He doubted they would have bothered to drag him to an actual establishment if he had.

Jack was still haunting him even now after his death, Timothy thought bitterly.

He slowly sat up, taking it the small room’s modest furnishings. He only had a split second to observe the bedside table, chamber pot, and narrow window before he suddenly noticed the dark skinned human in gleaming armor sitting across from him, his expression schooled into cold stoicism. Timothy had no idea who he was, but something told him he was serious business.

“Her majesty's heroes have told me who you are,” the knight said eventually. Timothy’s first instinct was to either shrink away in terror or apologize, but the knight continued before he could adequately panic. “My name is Sir Roland. I’ll be the first to offer you my sincerest apologies.”

Timothy stared at him, beyond confused. Nobody had any reason to offer him an apology, he wanted to say. If anything, he was the one who owed Flamerock Refuge and beyond a big fat sorry.

“Nobody knew you existed,” Roland explained, no doubt noticing the utterly gobsmacked look on Timothy’s face. “If we knew the Handsome Sorcerer was holding you prisoner alongside the Queen, we would have arranged for your rescue as well.”

Timothy’s mouth opened and closed for a long minute. It just seemed absurd to him that anyone would bother.

Roland tilted his head. “The heroes also told me that you can’t speak lest you blow something up,” he continued, rising to his feet. “So if it’s all right with you, I’ll ask that you stay quiet until we work out a solution to that.”

Timothy nodded rapidly, already fumbling for his sketchbook, which he found safe inside his satchel where it hung on the frame of the bed. _Thanks,_ he scribbled quickly, holding it up for Roland to see.

The knight offered him a small quirk of a smile, then gestured for him to follow him. Timothy gingerly did so, following Roland out of his room and down a short flight of steps into the modest lobby of the town’s inn. Roland flicked the owner of the place a gold coin as they passed the counter, telling the portly man that it was to cover Timothy’s stay. Timothy immediately went to protest, but Roland waved him off.

As they exited, Timothy saw the horse-shaped sign hanging above the door; it read The Saucy Stallion. Just around the corner was a forge owned by someone named Eleanor, and then beyond that sat what must have been the town’s main hub.

“Welcome to Flamerock Refuge,” Roland said, gesturing with a sweep of his arm. “It’s not much, but it’s home. It can be your home now too if you want.”

Flamerock Refuge was dismal, but only in the way that most towns of the time were. Tall buildings of wood and metal lined the cobbled road that snaked through the village. People were hustling around on their way to start their day, energized with the knowledge that the plight that had once seized the land could no longer bother them. The sun was up and shining just enough to comfortably counter the damp, chilly breeze that carried the scent of the sea. Needless to say, after staring at the same four stone walls for most of his life, the sight of this little town was beyond breathtaking.

Standing around the huge fire pit that made up the town’s center were the heroes who had slain the Handsome Sorcerer. Axton noticed Timothy’s presence first and hurried towards him in a near sprint, a huge grin on his face. Timothy noted immediately that Axton had removed his armor and was now clad in a simple form-fitting white shirt that exposed a decent amount of his chest and some pants that left little to the imagination.

“You’re all right now?” Axton asked, giving him a once-over. “You good?”

“I’m good,” Timothy said without thinking, returning the man’s grin with a shy one of his own.

A lantern hanging on a nearby post exploded with a shower of hot glass and liquid fire, all of which thankfully landed on the muddy ground and not the wooden porch of the forge. Nobody looked impressed, least of all Roland, who frowned at Timothy the way a disappointed parent might at their misbehaving kid.

Maya jabbed a finger at Timothy. “You. Me. Library,” she ordered, and Timothy hurried to comply.

 

* * *

 

It took a few days for Timothy to warm up to Maya. In truth, she scared him a little, and he often found her hard to read, which didn’t make things easier for him. He might have been safe and away from that damned tower, but it would take a while for his anxiety to permit him to truly relax.

Most of the books Maya shoved at him were easy enough to comprehend. Half the time it felt like Timothy somehow already knew some of the information, though he wasn’t sure how since Jack had never let him touch anything arcane during his time in the tower. He supposed a lot of it just came naturally to him.

“Interesting,” Maya said after he told her this, “that you have inborn magic and your twin brother had to study it. His sorcerer title was a lie.”

_He used to complain that I had stolen all his powers in the womb_ , Timothy wrote, rolling his eyes at the memory. _He used that as an excuse to take mine later on._

“With a ritual,” Maya said. Her gaze was firm and expectant, but she hadn’t forced him to talk about his torture yet. Timothy had been hesitant to go into detail, but now he felt safe enough in her presence to do so.

Maya looked ill by the time she was done reading the mess of a story from his sketchbook, but not surprised. “One of my old mentors tried that on me once,” she admitted quietly. “The ritual to siphon someone’s magics. I can’t imagine suffering through that as many times as you did.”

Timothy’s brow furrowed in sympathy. Indeed, once was bad enough. He might have been able to forgive Jack the first time he made him suffer through the worst pain he had ever felt in his life, but when Jack did it a second time, and a third, a fourth, draining Timothy of his power and leaving him barren for weeks on end—well, it had been the beginning of the end for them.

And yet: _Could we use that ritual to weaken me enough so I can talk without nearly killing someone?_ he wrote tentatively, already knowing the answer. He was just so sick of not being able to speak.

Maya shook her head, sending her blue plaited hair bouncing. “It’s been banned for obvious reasons,” she said. At his devastated look, she reached over the table and gave his arm a semi-awkward pat of comfort. “Here’s my theory: your body got used to having its power ripped away on a regular basis. Now that you’re free, it doesn’t know how to deal with all of it—hence the explosive repercussions when you speak.”

Timothy wilted. It made sense, he supposed, but it didn’t make him feel any better about his situation. If he couldn’t do the ritual and he couldn’t control himself, what else could he do other than live a life of mute solitude?

Maya caught his gaze and offered him a genuine smile. “Don’t look so defeated. I have no doubt you’ll be able to control yourself with careful study and practice. And lucky for you,” she reached for one of the small satchels at her belt, “I have something that might help you get the ball rolling.”

 

* * *

 

Axton didn’t bother to hide his mirth when he heard that Timothy had decided to stay in Flamerock Refuge. He hadn’t been too sure himself if he was going to stick around, as the locals didn’t have too much to offer in the way of adventure or loot, but hearing that Timothy was setting down temporary roots for a while convinced him to at least hang out.

“You are so transparent sometimes, amigo,” Salvador said, elbowing him in the thigh. “Just ask him already. It’s not like he can say no, eh?”

Axton rolled his eyes. “He can,” he said, “and probably blow my head off at the same time.”

Only he didn’t say no to his company. Axton sometimes found Timothy at the outskirts of town usually facing the sea with his nose in his sketchbook, but sometimes he’d be looking to the east where the Handsome Tower sat, pale and unblinking. Axton knew fear and anxiety when he saw it and did his best to offer the guy some comfort, prepared to step back if he wasn’t into it.

But he was. He leaned into his touches, offered him mute smiles of thanks whenever Axton distracted him away from his thoughts. He never so much as frowned whenever Axton decided to hang out with him for a while. It was nice, to say the least.

Thankfully word of a new adventure prevented him from making an ass out of himself too soon. It was going to be extremely dangerous, they were told, even more dangerous than the Handsome Sorcerer had been. So of course they were interested—enough so that they wanted to depart within the hour for the Lair of Infinite Agony.

After gathering his gear and some courage, Axton sought out Timothy in the town’s library. He typically spent his time tucked away in a corner surrounded by piles of books and scrolls. After years of being locked away from damn near everything, he finally had the chance to learn about magic. If he didn’t have his nose in a book about the arcane, he was scribbling more of his stories down in his sketchbook.

That was where Axton found him when he poked his head into Tannis’s small library. As he expected, Timothy was scribbling down notes in his book, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated.

Before Axton had the chance to greet him, Timothy looked up and broke into a marvelous grin at the sight of him. Timothy always looked happy to see him, but today he seemed especially ecstatic. As he jumped to his feet, Axton realized why.

“Hi,” Timothy said, only hesitating a little.

“Well howdy,” Axton returned, miming tilting a hat at the grinning man. “Good to hear your voice, darlin’. That new necklace got anything to do with it?”

“Yes,” Timothy said, reaching up to grab at the green amulet dangling from his neck by a black cord. “Maya figured out that I’ve got a lot of wild magic in me. This amulet helps regulate it—acting sort of like a phylactery for all the energy I give off when I speak. It’s temporary, but until I can really get control over myself, it’ll do.”

Axton’s grin merely widened. “I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say in one go. Bet this is such a relief for you.”

“Oh my _gods_ , is it,” Timothy exclaimed, swooning hard enough that Axton reflexively reached out to steady him. “Do you have any idea what it’s like not being able to speak for most of your life? I mean, yeah, back in that fucking tower I only ever had Jack to talk to anyway, so what the fuck ever I guess, but meeting you guys and not being able to tell you everything—shit, to even just _thank you_ for not abandoning me in that hellhole? Madness is an appropriate term for all of it, I think, but it’s fine now, I can just...just...”

Timothy trailed off, now realizing just how close they were, and took a step back, still grinning but very red in the face now. “Talk,” he concluded, clearing his throat. “And, um, yeah. Hi.”

Axton started laughing as he reached up and tugged on one of his strands of hair. “Finally got your voice and now you don’t know what to say, huh?”

“It’s taken some getting used to,” Timothy agreed, shrugging. “What brings you to my neck of the woods?”

“Headin’ out to slay some dragons,” Axton said nonchalantly, rolling one shoulder towards the door. “Figured I’d stop in to say my goodbyes.”

Timothy’s head shot up, his eyes quickly growing wide with worry. “ _Dragons_? Do you—should I come with you?” he babbled. “I-I’m still trying to figure out how to make my magic work, but—”

“Nah, we’ll be okay,” Axton assured him, already backpedaling towards the door. “We’re all itchin’ to get out there and slay some shit again—”

“Wait,” Timothy blurted.

The door wiggled a little, but didn’t slam shut like it probably would have if not for that amulet. But Timothy wasn’t looking at the door right then.

After a short pause, Timothy slowly brought himself into Axton’s personal space and reached up to cup his cheek. Axton remained still, though every fiber of his being wanted to lean into the warm touch. A moment later, a burst of warmth blossomed in his chest and trickled down through his limbs—the telltale sign of a magic blessing being cast upon him.

“Come back in one piece, please,” Timothy murmured.

“Is that a magical order?” Axton teased, reaching down to squeeze Timothy’s hands before he could fully withdraw.

“I mean, if you’re into that.”

“Oh baby.”

Gaige poked her head into the room then and made a gagging noise. “C’mon, you horndog, those dragons aren’t gonna slay themselves.”

Snickering, Axton gave Timothy’s hands one last squeeze before he headed out the door.

 

* * *

 

It would take the Heroes of Flamerock Refuge several days to trek back to the Lair of Infinite Agony to access the Winged Storm. Timothy knew this, but that didn’t stop him from worrying.

When day five rolled around with no sign of the heroes—not even a sending spell sent to Roland for crying out loud—Timothy truly began to wonder if he should have accompanied them. He was still practicing his magics, but surely he would have been somewhat useful. He could have verbally sassed one of the dragons into having a fit of bad self esteem at the very least.

“Staring at the horizon isn’t going to bring them back faster, you know,” Moxxi told him for the third time. He had taken to standing outside her tavern for the past couple days, unable to find solace with his studies or alone in his rented room.

“What if they’re in trouble?” he muttered, clutching his amulet tightly in one hand. “I should have gone with them.”

“And do what?” Moxxi’s saucy facade slipped for half a second so she could flash him an unimpressed look complete with frown and cocked brow. “There’s power in your words, sugar, but what good are they if you can’t use them without risk?”

Timothy wilted. He _had_ helped the gang before, but even now he wasn’t quite sure how he’d managed to channel his magics to do that. Moxxi was right—until he figured himself out, he was probably more burden than good. He made a mental promise to dive even harder into his studies so that he might one day offer his services to the others…assuming the party made it back in one piece, anyway.

“If you need help passing the time, I have some steins that could use a thorough wash down,” Moxxi offered. She sauntered over to him and played with one of the lapels on his robes. “Among other things. I can pay you quite handsomely, handsome.”

Timothy would later give himself a pat on the back for not letting his eyes stray away from her face. “In the form of gold, I assume?”

She just smiled coyly. “I think that can be arranged.”

Though washing dishes and even waiting some tables for the better part of an hour did distract him from his morbid thoughts (and line his pockets a little), they came rushing back to him soon enough as the sun went down on yet another day with no sign of the others.

Something wasn’t right. His heart had been telling him that from the start, and now his common sense was beginning to chime in. It shouldn’t take this long to get back. It shouldn’t take nearly a week to send a magical message that finds its intended recipient within seconds.

As Timothy lay in bed damn near paralyzed with worry, he gripped his amulet between his hands. It was very warm—a sign of too much power trapped inside it, he’d learned. He knew he could disperse some just by practicing some minor spells as Maya had urge him to do, but how was he supposed to focus on his studies if all he could think about was Axton getting chewed on by a dragon?

He gripped his amulet tighter, focusing. He had to do something, he thought. He had to try.

“You’re gonna have to fight,” he whispered into his clasped hands. “And you’re gonna win.”

The amulet grew cold immediately, its glow fading as power surged out of it and away, towards his companions wherever they were. Timothy could only hope that his words made it in time and that they actually did something, anything, to help them win.

 

* * *

 

Three days later, the gang finally returned, bloody and battered but alive and victorious. The sight of them rolling into town had Timothy sagging with relief and tripping over his own two feet to join the rest of the town in greeting them.

Axton, suffering from a few cuts on his brow and a blackened eye, caught Timothy’s gaze through the flock of people and broke into a dazzling, tired grin. He made his way towards him, blind and deaf to everyone else, and drew him into a brief, tight hug that had Timothy melting.

“We heard you,” Axton told him, pulling back to offer him another grateful grin. “Just when we were in some serious shit, we heard you tell us we were gonna win—and we _did_ , darlin’. You helped us win.”

Timothy ducked his head, bashful and relieved, and shoved him a little. “I told you I should have come with you.”

“Next time we go fight some dragons, you can tag along.”

“Hell,” Salvador exclaimed as he walked by juggling several small bags of coin, “as far as I’m concerned, he’s part of the party from here on out. Welcome to the gang, amigo.”

“Yes,” Zero agreed with a nod. “The kind of strength you filled us with was like nothing I’ve ever felt.”

Timothy continued to turn red as he reached up to grab the amulet around his neck. “Well, I’m glad I could help.”

The crowd continued to fawn around the returning heroes, and Timothy stepped back, wanting to give them some air.

That night, the town held another massive celebration within Moxxi’s tavern. It wasn’t as big as the one they threw when they learned of the Handsome Sorcerer’s demise, but the drink and song were just as plentiful. Timothy joined in the shenanigans, wedging himself into the nearest corner table and nursing his stein of grog until his eyelids became heavy with sleep.

As he wobbled his way back towards the Saucy Stallion Inn, Axton came jogging up to him, only stumbling a little. The guy had gone all-out with the drinking and merriment, but Timothy figured he deserved to let loose after nearly dying. Besides, he looked cute all flushed and giggly from drink.

“Before I forget—I got you somethin’,” Axton said quietly, pulling something out of his pocket. He held it out, revealing a small yellowed stone with rough edges. “I got no clue what this is, but, uh, Maya says you can use this as a spell component. Blame her if it’s shit, though.”

Timothy took the stone, his eyes growing wide with wonder and surprise. Phosphorous, he realized, smiling. He’d never been gifted anything before. “Thank you,” he said quietly, gently turning the stone over in his hands.

“Hope it comes in handy,” Axton said, shrugging coolly.

Timothy shut his eyes and concentrated on the stone in his grasp, then opened his eyes at the same moment four small spheres of light blossomed around them. They were the same pale shade of yellow as the stone and floated gently around the two of them like lazy lightning bugs.

Axton, wide eyed with surprise, reached out to poke one of the orbs, sending it floating backwards. “Neat,” he decided, grinning.

“Yes,” Timothy echoed, cracking a grin of his own. “Neat.”

 

* * *

 

After such a harrowing ordeal fighting three dragons and almost dying to them, the gang decided to take it easy the following days. They had amassed quite the haul of loot after slaying not one but three dragons, so much of that downtime was spent dividing it all between themselves in addition to the reward money they got from Mr. Torgue.

Everyone seemed grateful for Timothy’s long distance help, but Axton especially, as he kept popping in from time to time to give him more little gifts—mostly just material components like a bit of fleece and copper wire, though once he brought him some glazed candies he’d snagged straight off Gaige’s plate.

“Eat ‘em fast,” Axton told him, damn near breathless from sprinting across Flamerock to deliver the sweets before the necromancer realized she’d been robbed. “And if I never see you again after this day, know that I regret nothin’.”

Timothy appreciated all of the gifts as well as the attention. Axton was funny and charming—not at all like Jack, who’s brand of humor was crass and his idea of charming left a lot to be desired. This was new and wonderful and Timothy cherished every second of it.

Eventually, Axton didn’t have to keep tossing excuses around to come hang out with Timothy by the cliffside fire pit. He still used the area to train, but he didn’t bother coming up with a reason to remain there afterwards, lounging next to Timothy while he practiced his cantrips or scribbled in his sketchbook. The gaps slowly closed between them.

The gap disappeared entirely the day Axton made the dumb decision to challenge Krieg to a wrestling match. Timothy wasn’t sure what the hell made him decide to one-vee-one the barbarian, but he found himself refereeing the two of them from the safety of the tree at his cliffside refuge.

In a matter of seconds, Axton realized his mistake. “Help me out, darlin’!” he wailed as Krieg grabbed him in another headlock. “Use that lovely voice of yours!”

Timothy wasn’t sure what the hell he could possibly do to help the dumb man. “You’re, um...really good at this?” he offered lamely in between his snorting laughs.

There was no magic packing a punch in his words, which Axton quickly realized when Krieg hefted him into the air and chucked him halfway across the arena, well out of the circle they’d drawn in the dirt at the start of the match. The barbarian let out a victory roar, arms in the air, then stalked off, muttering about meat and grog.

“You betrayed me,” Axton groaned as he dragged himself over to Timothy where he now sat under the gnarled tree. He flopped down gracelessly onto his back, his head cradled in Timothy’s lap. “Here I was thinkin’ we had somethin’ special.”

“I’m not gonna waste a spell slot,” Timothy said, sniffing. “You made this bed, you lay in it.”

“Only if you join me,” Axton said—and there was the eyebrow wiggle and cocky smirk that Timothy had come to adore. Just like that, all was forgiven.

They fell into a comfortable silence for a while, just enjoying the refreshing breeze from the sea as they so often did whenever they came together out here. Axton’s breaths became steadier as his adrenaline died out, and Timothy would have pegged him for being asleep until he started talking.

“This okay?” Axton murmured, eyes still closed. “Me lyin’ on you like this.”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Timothy asked, reaching down to tug on one of the sweat-slicked spikes of his hair. He had always welcomed the man’s touches and was loathe to tell him to stop.

Axton just grunted. “Wasn’t sure if you liked bein’ touched is all,” he said. “I do it way too much without askin’ first.”

“I don’t mind,” Timothy said, leaning over him. He had to tuck his hair behind his ears to keep the long strands from dangling in Axton’s face. “Especially when it’s you doing it.”

Axton opened his eyes and found Timothy’s. Then, with a reverence Timothy had never experienced before, Axton reached up to run his knuckles over Timothy’s cheek. Timothy returned the favor for once, tentatively caressing the side of the man’s flushed face. Axton’s eyes fluttered shut again as he leaned into the touch.

Oh, Timothy thought as a warmth blossomed in his chest. The sensation was akin to the kind of tightness that came with casting spells; it wasn’t at all unpleasant and definitely suggested that there were wonderful things to come if he played his cards right.

“Tell me a story,” Axton murmured, eyes closed again.

“Once upon a time there was a gladiator bear named Athena,” Timothy began, wrenching a deep laugh out of the man that only made the warmth in Timothy’s chest spread.

 

* * *

 

“Do you think there’s more out there?” he asked Axton one day, gesturing to the vast expanse of ocean before them. He knew there was—he’d been scouring the maps in the library lately—but it still seemed impossible to him that there could be life beyond the horizon.

“I sailed in from that way,” Axton said. As usual, he was resting next to Timothy in the grass. He had given himself a vigorous workout a few minutes earlier. It had been a delight to watch, but Timothy would be lying if he didn’t enjoy the sight of Axton now, all sweaty and still breathing hard from exertion.

“From where?”

“A town called Hieronymous. Shithole city under the control of an even shittier kingdom that may or may not want me dead. Ain’t worth the journey, trust me.”

Timothy wilted a little at the his sullen, flat tone. Almost immediately he recalled the helmet Axton liked to wear during combat, the one that looked like it had once been shiny and well-kept. It was the only part of his getup that actually made him resemble the knights Timothy had seen patrolling the Handsome Tower before Jack’s dark magic turned them into something...something else.

“You were a knight once, weren’t you?” he said before his brain could caution him against it. “For this shithole kingdom.”

Axton was silent for a while, his gaze narrowed and glued to the clear sky above them. Whatever had happened between him and that kingdom was clearly something he didn’t want to talk about, and that was okay.

Timothy sat up. “Wanna see a trick?”

At that, Axton cast him a suspicious look. “A magic trick?”

“Yeah! Close your eyes.”

He did so reluctantly, humming and sinking down into the grass like he was bracing for something terrible. Timothy grinned and fumbled with the piece of fleece he kept in his satchel, then summoned up two perfect copies of himself that appeared on either side of him wearing identical grins.

On his go ahead, Axton opened his eyes and immediate reared back in surprise as all three Timothys intoned in unison, “But which one’s the _real_ me?”

With a hefty eyeroll, Axton reached up to tug on a chunk of the real Timothy’s hair. “Hilarious.”

“You can blame yourself,” Timothy informed him as the other two copies blinked away. “What, did you think all those components were just for making glowy balls?”

Axton, of course, snickered at the “glowy balls” bit before sobering up. “You’re learnin’ a lot, huh?”

“Thanks to you,” Timothy said with a small smile. “All the books and scrolls in the world won’t matter if I don’t have the components to cast spells.”

Timothy watched as Axton turned red from something other than the sun. “Well, you’re welcome,” he murmured.

 

* * *

 

Axton was in trouble.

He had known this for a time, but was only just admitting it to himself now—and now he was in far too deep to just walk away. If he tried, he might escape mostly unharmed, but the same certainly couldn’t be said for Timothy.

Timothy with the dazzling smile and the handsome face and a laugh that made Axton’s heart swell ten times in size—and not just because of the guy’s magic. Everything about him made Axton feel stupid and lightheaded and amazing.

“I’m in trouble,” Axton announced one night to Maya and Gaige over his third stein of watered-down grog.

“Who did you piss off this time?” Gaige asked, not at all surprised or concerned by his outburst. She was more interested in the plate of ham and eggs than his troubles.

“Nobody. I mean, myself. Maybe some deity, I don’t fuckin’ know.” Axton scowled and took another deep swig of his drink. “I like Timothy. Like, a lot.”

The ladies exchanged unimpressed glances. “And no one is surprised,” Maya drawled. “Why’s this got you so upset?”

“The last time I fell this hard for someone, I got arrested and almost hanged.”

“Sarah was a noblewoman,” Maya pointed out, frowning, “and already married by the time you sauntered into her life, if I recall. Of course you nearly paid for it. Timothy, on the other hand, is experiencing real freedom for the first time and choosing to spend most of it with you. Either make something of this or find something else to complain about.”

Axton sent her a burning scowl and hated her for being right. Why did he have to be such a coward about this? He could stare down three dragons even with his guts hanging out no problem, but god forbid he talk about his feelings with the elf he really liked. Then again, not talking about his feelings is partially what led to him and Sarah falling apart. That and her husband walking in on them.

Gaige set her fork down with a clank. “If you won’t be the one to make a move,” she said, “I, out of the kindness of my heart, will risk being humiliated on your behalf.”

Axton nearly choked on his grog. “What? I ain’t askin’ you to do that!”

“So you’ll ask him yourself, then?”

The ladies fixed him with the same unimpressed looks they’d been sporting since he sat his mopey ass down at their table. Axton groaned and covered his face with both hands as he sank further into his seat, trying to disappear into another plane of existence.

Gaige picked up her fork. “Have no fear, friend. You and Timothy will be bumpin’ uglies this time tomorrow, I guarantee it.”

“Yeah, like you haven’t promised me that before,” Axton grumbled.

 

* * *

 

“Cute flowers,” Gaige said. “Did Axton give them to you?”

Timothy glanced up from his book on evocation to blink at the necromancer where she lay sprawled across his bed. Usually she preferred to just pop in every other day to tease him or show off a new spell she was trying to master, but today all she seemed to be doing was following him around and asking him questions about Axton. It was a little strange given that she had been friends with him long before Timothy entered the picture, but he enjoyed her company anyway.

“Yes,” he said, turning his attention towards the little multicolored marigolds he had in a small vase near the window. They certainly helped brighten up the otherwise dark, undecorated place. “A few days ago. Why?”

“He gives you a lot of stuff, doesn’t he?” Gaige said. There was a smirk on her face—a look that suggested a cat catching a canary. 

“Mostly spell components,” Timothy said, smiling at all the fond memories he had of the ranger sidling up to him with something new and appreciated. “But sometimes stuff like the flowers—and the other day he brought me new parchment and some charcoal. He’s been so nice. I wish I could return the favor.”

Gaige continued to stare at him as he rambled, then sighed and rolled her eyes towards the ceiling. “Oh my gods, he’s _courting_ you, dummy! The flowers, the material components, the undivided attention—have you really not put two and two together yet? It’s been weeks since we dragged your butt outta that tower!”

He gaped at her, truly stunned by her outburst. He knew Axton had taken a liking to him, of course, but actually courting him? That implied he wanted to do more than bat his eyes and offer cheeky flirtations when the mood struck him. It wasn’t at all unappealing, just shocking, especially when it was being announced out of the blue by Axton’s best friend.

“Look,” Gaige said, sitting up, “I’m all for this. I think you’d do each other some good. But if you don’t feel the same way he does, you need to tell him before he burns himself out over you. It’s happened before and I’ll be damned if I have to put up with his mopey ass again.”

“I do,” Timothy blurted. “Like him. Very much.”

“Great!” the necromancer exclaimed happily, leaping to her feet. “That was easy. I’ll go grab him and we can get this show on the road.”

“You—wait, _what_? Gaige!” Timothy squealed, but she was already out the door.

Terror immediately filled him to the brim. What if Gaige was wrong? What if Axton was just being a nice guy? Timothy didn’t know a goddamn thing about romance! Axton was just wasting his time on him!

Approximately three billion other negative thoughts filled his brain then, leaving him standing in the middle of his room in a frozen stupor until suddenly Gaige was back, literally shoving a confused Axton through the doorway. The ranger, who had clearly been in the middle of something else, was pissed off and shouting at her until he realized where exactly she’d dragged him.

“Uh, hey,” he started to say, only to wince as Gaige slammed the door shut behind her as she vanished once more. He glowered over his shoulder for half a second before turning back to Timothy, now very red in the face. “Not sure what the hell’s goin’ on, but, uh, Gaige said you needed me?”

Timothy drank in the sight of him standing there in his plain clothes that were too tight for all his muscle, at his disheveled hair and wide eyes that were the color of the sea in a storm. His presence was enough to chase every last negative thought from his body, and in that moment of crystal clear clarity, Timothy reached a conclusion.

“I don’t know about need, exactly,” he said, stepping forward. Axton’s eyes immediately snapped to his lips. “But I certainly want you, Axton.”

“Oh,” Axton said, eyebrows lifting with mild surprise and maybe even a bit of relief. “Well then, that makes two of us. I want me, too.”

Timothy laughed as all the tension left him, and the echoing goofy grin Axton flashed him only further cemented the desire Timothy felt right then and there.

They decided in near unison to throw caution to the wind and just kiss. Timothy coiled his arms around Axton’s neck, needing only half a second to figure out where the hell to put his hands and how to tilt his head just right so that he and Axton slotted together perfectly.

Kissing Axton was like pure relief in every sense of the word. He felt safe, he felt like a home Timothy never knew, he felt like every good thing in this world wrapped up into a kind, polite individual who liked Timothy as much as he did him.

But when Axton’s hands snaked just a tiny bit lower down his hips, Timothy broke away with a startled gasp. “I’ve never done this,” he blurted, tangling his fingers in Axton’s shirt. “With anyone.”

“This,” Axton echoed with a warm chuckle. “It’s just kissin’, darlin’.”

“I know.”

At that, Axton seemed to deflate a little. Timothy didn’t want to deter him—he wanted this, truly, whatever “this” might be or lead to—but he was clueless when it came to doing...well, any of this stuff. Those raunchy novels in the section of the town’s library he was forbidden to touch could only educate him so much.

He wasn’t stupid, though, so he at least had that going for him. “Lie down with me?” he asked, tugging on Axton’s sleeve.

The bed was way too small for two grown men, but they made do by lying on their sides facing each other. With his back up against the wall and Axton at his front, the feeling of being safe gradually returned to Timothy. But another emotion trickled in with it—one that left him sniffling and trembling where he lay, even in Axton’s presence.

“Darlin’?” Axton cupped his face, his brows furrowing with concern. “Why’re you cryin’?”

“I’m…” Timothy shook his head, hating himself, hating his brother. “Why are you so kind to me?”

The question seemed to take Axton aback a moment. “Is there a reason why you don’t deserve our kindness?”

Timothy sniffed wetly. “I helped,” he choked out, “make Jack what he was. Turned him into even more of a monster. The plagues and curses that befell this land—it’s all because I made Jack strong enough to do it.”

“But you didn’t want to,” Axton said quietly, reaching up to smooth a wayward tear off Timothy’s cheek with his thumb. “If he didn’t use you, he would have found someone else—someone who might not have been as tough and brave as you.”

“Brave,” Timothy echoed through a snort. “I don’t have a brave bone in my body.”

“You wanted to come with us to fight some dragons even though you were still figurin’ yourself out. You might have helped your brother rise to power, but in the end, you helped us stop him. Sounds pretty brave to me.”

“I—wait, what?” Timothy blinked at him, confused. “I helped you with Jack?”

Axton cocked a brow in surprise. “Durin’ the fight, I had been knocked on my ass and thought I was gonna die. Like, legitimately bleedin’ out on the battlefield, saw bright lights, all that. Maya couldn’t get to me. But you did, didn’t you? I mean, at the time I just assumed someone had dunked me with a stamina potion,” he admitted with a shrug. “But I heard somethin’ during that fight that gave me the power to push on when I really needed it. That was all you, wasn’t it?”

Timothy was quiet for a while, his gaze vacant. He hadn’t really allowed himself to dwell on the fact that he more or less let his brother die. “Well,” he said softly, “the good guys always win one way or another, don’t they?”

“If they got a powerful bard on their side, they do.”

Timothy snorted and pinched him. “Is that the only reason why you like me?”

Axton offered him a cheeky grin and eyebrow wiggle. “I mean, you ain’t the ugliest person I’ve ever seen,” he said, earning another half-assed pinch.

“I’m gonna use that line to curse you guys the next time you head out on a dangerous adventure.”

“Does that mean you’re gonna come with us when we head outta here?”

Timothy blinked, startled. “Where to?”

“No real plan yet,” Axton explained, reaching up to run a finger along the edge of Timothy’s ear. “The others wanna eventually head east in search of more towns in need with plenty of incentive for us to help ‘em.”

The thought of getting out of the shadow of the Handsome Tower was beyond enticing. “There is a bard’s college up that way,” Timothy said, tapping a finger to his pursed lips as he thought. “Hmm. I _might_ be convinced to tag along for a while.”

“Yeah?” Axton was already leaning in. “Are you gonna tell me what I have to do to convince you?”

“You know what?” Timothy cupped Axton’s face. “I think I’ll cut to the chase this time.”

**Author's Note:**

> The "you're gonna have to fight and you're gonna win" line is from The Adventure Zone: Balance arc, which is very near and dear to me. I *might* have a part 2 for this in the future, so keep an eye out. For now, I hope you enjoyed ^^ 
> 
> Comments and kudos appreciated! <3


End file.
